Rain on Me
by JennaLynne
Summary: Set in Maraurder's Era. Chronicles the journey of a young girl through Hogwarts. Sirius/OC
1. Preface

I will not start this story with the words 'Once upon a time', and this tale will not end with a 'happily ever after'. For this tale does not begin in a mythical land 'far, far away', but in the average city of London. And the lines of good and evil are not always so clearly defined. Rather, we find ourselves dabbling in the ever indefinite shades of grey.

_But I'll let you judge the shadows for yourself. _

So, my story begins, as many do, with a letter. A letter written on yellow parchment, with green ink, to be exact. A letter, sealed with thick red wax, bearing an intricate coat of arms.

My story begins at age eleven. To most, eleven is still an age of childhood. The cusp of adolescence, but still maintaining a level of innocence. For me, it was not so much as cusp, as it was a cliff. A sixty foot cliff I had no business standing atop of.

It was no wonder I fell.

I suppose all beginnings come with an introduction, with some form of explanation. As it gives me a platform to launch off of, I'll start with something basic. My name is Emily Parker. Far from a singular name, in fact, it's one of the most popular in Britain. But I could hardly be called ordinary. I don't think it would be fair – or logical - to call anyone with magical abilities ordinary. I promise I'm not insane, nor are you, for you've heard correctly. My name is Emily, and I am a witch.

Now, whether or not I'm a talented witch, I cannot say. I'll leave that for a reader to decide. But I will make one promise.

My story is far from boring.


	2. The Letter

Emily Parker was not one people generally considered to be beautiful. Though, to reserve judgement, she couldn't exactly be called ugly either. She was rather tall for her age, already standing at 157 centimeters. Her skin could be called neither fair, nor tan. Her cheekbones were high and slashing; her face all angles and points, as opposed to the soft distinguished features most girls coveted. She wore her ash blonde hair in a plain style, cropped at her shoulders. But if anything about Emily made a person take a second look, it would have been her eyes, for they were a most striking shade of violet. And when she smiled, they glittered with the innocence of her youth.

A storm raged outside, thunder and lightening clashing loudly, seemingly at war with the rain droplets that hammered away at the window pane. Emily lay awake, on her back, still wrapped in a tumult of blankets, fearing the moment her mother would come in the room to rise her. None of her mates mothers made _them _get up at eight o'clock in the morning during the summer holidays. She pouted for a moment, and pondered what she could possibly spend the day doing, seeing as the tempestuous rain would ensure an indoor play-day.

"Anything to avoid cleaning my room" she joked to herself, and pulled her body from the warm sanctuary of bed, before her mother could do it for her. Gingerly and delebritely, she stepped over a pile of dirty jeans, kicked aside a pair of trainers that hadn't fit since last summer, and revealed a bare spot of carpet.

"Well, what'da know. Its blue under there. I'd forgotten." She laughed again at her own joke, and continued down the hallway where she could smell kipper frying for breakfast. The closer she came, the louder the whispered conversation of her parents became.

"Josie, she's eleven. All eleven year olds enjoy living in a pigsty. Its a right of passage."

"Matt, it's disgusting. She's going to clean her room today, or I'm going to ground her. Its that simple."

In the hall, Emily moaned, and dejected, entered the kitchen. "Hi." she muttered, heaping toast onto a plate and silently falling into a chair in the cramped kitchen.

"I think she heard you." her father said on a laugh and rumpled his daughters hair. "Tell ya what Em, we'll do it togehter. You and me. Then maybe, if we finish early enough, we can go for gelato later."

Hearing this, the little girl perked up, her eyes sparkling. "Really, daddy?"

"Of course. So eat, and we'll get started."

Josie scowled. Unlike her daughter, she was, and always had been, classically beautiful. Tall and slender, with hair the colour of the expensive champagne she had a taste for, that ran in a cascade down the middle of her back. Emily had inherited her high cheekbones, but not her easy smile, nor her unsettling blue eyes. With her good looks, Josie had put herself through university by modeling, and even had a brief hope of turning professional. But instead, she'd found herself getting married, and not soon after, pregnant. Often she lay awake at night, wondering what had become of her dreams.

Emily never wished for her mother's looks, she never prayed that one day she'd wake up and have inherited her grace either. From the time she could walk, she'd always preferred playing with the boys in the mud, seeing who could collect the most worms, and seeing who could go the most days without cleaning their room. She favored her father, who also was tall, but had a much more relaxed look about him, with wildly curly brown hair, and the same glittering violet eyes.

"You give into her far too easily." her mother said quietly.

There was one thing, that even at such a young age Emily found mesmerizing. Her parents relationship astounded her. For she could not imagine two people less suited for each other. Her father always seemed so down to earth, always so easy to relate to. Her mother, and perhaps, Emily realised, this came from being so beautiful, had an air about her, something of vanity wrapped in the space around her. It was disruptive, and she clung, steadfastly, to her father. But then again, all you had to do was take one look at Josie and Matthew Parker, and there wouldn't be a doubt in your mind that they loved each other.

She watched them have a silent stand-off, though she knew her father would win, as he always did whenever the fight was about Emily. _And besides_, the little girl thought to herself _Mum gets what she wants anyway, my stupid room will be clean, and I'll have to try and beat Edward's month long record all over again._ Aloud, she sighed. But before her mother could ask what was wrong, the doorbell rang.

Perplexed, Josie cautiously made her way into the foyer, opening the door without removing the security chain. The sight she was met with was one not many people can claim they've seen, and the shock of it rendered her speechless. There was an old man in the doorway, face lined slightly with the wrinkles of age and wisdom, his hair and beard both silver, but peppered with strands of auburn, and long enough to be tucked into his belt. This alone, was not a strange sight in itself, for there were many men that age living in the city of London. The weird thing about this man was the fact that he was dressed in a set of magenta robes. Finally, Josie found her voice.

"Could...could I help you?"

"I certainly hope so." the man responded cheerfully.

_Maybe he's lost..._ Emily's mother thought to herself.

"I'm here to speak to Emily Parker" he continued.

"About what?" she demanded to know, placing her hands on her hips.

"She's been offered a place at my school."

"Oh." Again, rendered speechless, Josie stepped aside, unsure how the chain had removed itself from the door, as she couldn't remember doing it herself. But she figured she must have, for how else had it come off? "Please come in... Mr...?"

"True enough, I haven't introduced myself." he said quietly, his blue eyes twinkling brightly. "My name is Albus Dumbeldore."

Without another word, Josie led him into the kitchen, where, much to her dismay, Emily was shooting pieces of kipper at her father, seeing how far she could get them to fly. She felt the blush rise hot on the back of her neck. What would this man think of her daughter now?

"Stop that." she ordered simply. "You are a young lady. Act like one."

Emily exhaled loudly, rolling her eyes. "Who's that?" she asked suddenly, turning her attention to the man standing silently beside her mother.

"This is Mr. Dumbeldore. He's come to offer you a place at his school?"

Matthew Parker turned his attention to his wife. "How can that be? She's never been entered into a private school." he hissed out of th corner of his mouth.

Josie shrugged. "Maybe she did it herself. At one of those career fair things."

Dumbeldore sat down at their breakfast table, wedging his long limbs into the tight space. "Emily's name has been down for Hogwarts since birth." he answered the Parker's whispered questions.

"Hogwarts? I've never heard of it. And we most definitely did not ask for her to be admitted there."

"My school is one based on ablities. It is a school of magic."

The reactions were mixed, and typical of what you would imagine a situation like this one would result in. Josie's mouth hung open, unable to find words. Apparently she'd correctly assumed that this man was crazy, and had made a grave mistake in allowing him into her home. Matt was outraged, screaming as Emily had never seen him do before. And as for Emily, well, as many children at that age are, she was fascinated, but weary, for she'd seen too many dreams shattered.

"Prove it." she'd said simply, and folded her arms tightly over her chest, set her mouth in a thin line and waited.

Instead of looking, as Emily had predicted, distraught, that he'd be unable to prove himself, Dumbledore looked delighted, as though this is exactly what he hoped would happen. removing a long thin piece of wood from beneath his cloak, he waved it, and wordlessly vanished all the food from the table.

"Whoa." she whispered.

"It's a trick." Matt growled. "I want this man out of my house. Now."

Dumbledore held up a hand. "Just a moment more of your time. If when I've had my say, Emily still doesn't want to attend Hogwarts, then I will leave you in peace, just as I've come."

Emily's father said nothing more, just mimicked his daughters actions, crossing his arms over his chest, and setting his mouth in a line.

"Miss Parker," Dumbeldore said softly, eyes still sparkling. "Have you ever made anything happen? Anything you couldn't explain, like when you were angry, or scared?"

Emily bit down on her lip and thought of the single time she'd lied to Edward, telling him that she'd caught fifty worms, and hidden them in a box under her bed. Of course, what she hadn't counted on was that her friend would demand to see said worms, and wouldn't let the subject drop until she'd agreed to take him. She'd prayed fervently on the walk over, that if somehow a massive pile of worms would appear under her bed, she'd go to church every Sunday for the remainder of the month. And to her astonishment, when they got to her room, they had. Edward had been grossed out, and that was saying something. She'd always chalked up the miraculous appearance of the worms to God, but now, she wasn't so sure.

"Well... actually, yeah. I have."

Dumbeldore smiled. "I know. And now that you're eleven, we'll train you to harness your magic. To hopefully use it for good. There's so much for you to learn." And at this, he handed her a letter. A letter written on yellow parchment, in green ink, sealed with red wax, bearing an intricate coat of arms. "You'll be needing that, if you choose to attend Hogwarts."

"I do!" she practically yelled. "I want to learn all about magic!"

"Good. Then you'll need a few things. I can take you today to get them, if you so desire..."

"No way." It was not Matt that spoke this time, but Josie. "I'm sorry Em, but there's not a chance in hell that I'm letting you go off alone with this man. We don't know anything about him. No offense sir."

"No, none taken. I would, of course expect at least one of you to join us today."

Emily had now ripped open her letter and was reading her list of needed supplies. "All first year students are required to have:

Two sets of robes (black) for daily wear  
One winter cloak, (Black with silver fastinings)  
One standard size two pewter cauldron  
One set of scales..."

She droned on, reading her list of items, then upon completion, turned to Dumbeldore. "Cane we find all this in London?"

"Sure," he responded easily. "If you know where to look."


	3. Diagon Alley

Emily stood in the middle of her room amidst the bedlam of dirty clothing, her mind moving at a hundred miles an hour.

"Me…a witch." She murmured breathlessly, still trying to come to terms with what she'd just been told. "Magic really does exist."

She dragged yesterday's jeans over her slender hips, and began a quest for a relatively clean shirt. She lost herself in thoughts. Her mother never knocked, so it shouldn't have surprised her to hear the intrusion into her room. But it did, and she jumped back a few feet when she realized she wasn't alone.

"Em, you've got to hurry up, Professor Dumbledore is waiting."

She rolled her eyes, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. "I'm going, I'm going." And she lifted the next shirt she found off the floor, bringing it to her nose to check for cleanliness.

Josie shuddered. "That is beyond disgusting. We're going to have to talk about that."

"Yeah, Mum. Okay." She dragged off her pajama top, but before she could pull the new shirt over her head, her mother stopped her.

"How'd you do that?" Josie asked her daughter, voice filled with concern.

"Do what?"

Her mother stepped closer, gently touched her daughters back. "Get this bruise…"

Emily tried, unsuccessfully to get a look at the clover shaped mark on her spine. Eventually, she gave up, shrugging. "No idea. I must've hit it on the playground or something."

"Be more careful, okay?" she said finally, biting down on her lip.

The little girl nodded and pulled her tee-shirt on quickly then. She grabbed her mother's hand, and bounded down the hallway to where her father stood, deep in conversation with Dumbledore.

"Ready, Miss Parker?" he said softly, blue eyes twinkling behind half moon spectacles.

Emily nodded animatedly.

"Where, exactly, are we going?" Matt asked quietly, as they made their way down the rainy streets of Kensington.

Dumbledore pursed his lips, and then pointed ahead of them. "There. Gloucester Street Underground."

"That's not much of a destination…" Emily's father grumbled.

"Just a stop along the way, my good man. We'll get there eventually."

"So, we get to ride the tube?" Emily asked with a sly smile.

"Indeed we do. Actually," he said thinking aloud, "We need to change lines, if my memory serves me correctly, as it usually does."

"We can only catch the Piccadilly, District, or Circle lines from this station." Emily informed him, proud of her own knowledge.

"Right." Dumbledore acknowledged. "And do you know where we can switch to the Bakerloo line?" he asked her, although he clearly already knew.

"Piccadilly Circus." She responded confidently. "One time, Edward and I went there. Just to see what it was like…" she trailed off, looked up at her parents. "Oops."

"Oops is right young lady." Her father said sternly, swiping his card, stepping into the train station. "How many times have we told you not to go off on your own like that?"

"A lot." She sighed, swiped her own card. "But I wasn't alone, I was with Edward…" she supplied.

"Yes, because Edward Reeve, a twelve year old boy is exactly who you should be traveling to random parts of London with." Her mother added sarcastically.

"It's over and done with. Let it go." Emily muttered through gritted teeth. "I'm sorry."

Her father sighed, and climbed onto the waiting train. Inhaling deeply, he turned his attention back to Dumbledore. "You said we had to change to the Bakerloo line? And exactly, where, are we getting off?"

The train picked up speed, carrying the four through South Kensington, and passing towns. "Charring Cross, I believe."

"You believe?" Matt asked with a raised eyebrow.

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "I'm quite certain." He amended.

Matt muttered something inaudible, and became very interested in the poster on the wall.

"Muggles everywhere…" an older man grumbled as he began chasing after two young boys, one of whom had the same unruly black hair as his father; they had just sped past the Parkers.

"Mr. Potter, so nice to see you again." Dumbledore commented to the man, who'd given up the chase of his son.

"Albus…I didn't see you there."

"Yes, it's rather interesting how easily focused we are when our children are involved…" he trailed off, his voice lingering on a wistful note.

Thomas Potter's brow furrowed deeply, trying to understand exactly what Dumbledore had been trying to express. "Well… I… Oy! You lot!" he rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the boys, clearly irritated that James and his friend had managed to push their way past the Parker's and press their noses against the Plexiglas window of the train. "That's quite disgusting."

Dumbledore chuckled when he realized that Emily had joined the ranks of the boys, her breath too, fogging up the glass.

"Look. If you do this, you can make a smiley face." She stage-whispered and made a gesture with her hands, drawing on the glass.

"Smiley faces are for girls." James added stubbornly, and he folded his arms over his chest.

"Well, I am a girl." Emily finished, thrusting her tongue out at him.

"Yeah, mate." The other boy added "I think she is."

"Who's side are you on, Peter?" James added with a roll of his eyes. "So, I'm James, by the way. James Potter. And this is Peter Pettigrew."

"Emily Parker." She said quietly "But I don't like you."

James laughed loudly. "I'm heartbroken. A girl doesn't like me."

"You'll be sorry." She muttered. "I'm a witch. I'll curse you."

"Ooo scary." The boys chorused. "I'll bet she's nothing but a big Muggle."

"Am not. Don't call me that."

"Do you even know what it means?" James challenged

Emily bit down on her lip. "No." she admitted halfheartedly. "But… it didn't sound nice."

"It means non-magic." Peter added

"Duh." James finished

The girl brightened. "Well. I'm not a Muggle. I'm going to Hogwarts. It's a school of magic."

"We know that. We're going there too. Actually we're on our way to pick up our things now. Isn't that right, Peter?"

"Uh… yeah." His attention was directed at the glass, where he was enjoying drawing a wide array of things in the fog of his breath.

The conductor announced their arrival at Piccadilly Circus, and now a group of seven, they disembarked, and made their way towards the next train.

"So, doya know what house you'll be in?"

"House?" Emily asked, curiously.

"Yeah, at Hogwarts. Its like, where you live. There's four of them, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." James turned his attention to his friend. "My whole family's been in Gryffindor." He looked up proudly at his father, who smiled gently. "I think I'd die if they put me in Slytherin, yeah?"

Peter nodded fervently, saying nothing.

"Why's Slytherin bad?" Emily prodded

"You-Know-Who was in Slytherin."

The girl wrinkled her nose. "Um…Who?"

"The bad wizard. We don't say his name." Peter whispered.

Disapproving, Dumbledore looked down. "Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself. Lord Voldermort. Call him his rightful name. Lest he control us all."

"Albus, he's killed people…" Thomas spoke softly. "Its understandable that people are afraid…"

Josie Parker looked terrified. "But… I mean… you can do magic… surely you can stop him."

James Potter laughed and rolled his eyes. "Well yeah, but the bad guys can do magic too."

"Thus the dilemma." Dumbledore finished. "But you've nothing to worry about." He said softly. "Hogwarts is quite safe."

Josie didn't look reassured.

Again, the group left the train; began a trek through the rain, coming to a halt outside a raggy looking pub.

"I'm sorry… we're stopping here because…" Matt asked no one in particular.

James laughed. "We have to go through the Leaky Cauldron to get to Diagon Alley."

The bar was near empty. The barman looked up, hopeful for business. "Just passin' through" someone muttered.

They stumbled through the back door, seven people crowding in the tight space. Thomas Potter removed his wand, tapped the third brick from the top, expanding an archway large enough for all seven to pass through comfortably.

"Welcome," James said dramatically. "To Diagon Alley."

Emily felt her mouth hang open, knew it was rude, but did nothing to close it. The tops of the buildings leaned inwards, creating an arch affect throughout the whole street. It was impossibly crowded, with people moving to and fro, side street vendors trying to push their goods off on unsuspecting consumers.

"First stop, Gringotts."

"What's that?" Emily asked, eager to learn everything she could about the wizarding community.

"Our bank" James supplied helpfully. "Its run by goblins."

"Goblins?" Matt asked astonished.

Thomas nodded. "You'd be crazy to try and rob it that way."

"Oh. I see." Emily said quickly, then paused, clearly debating asking another question. "So… tell me more about the Hogwarts houses…"

"Well there's Gryffindor. All the really brave students go there. And then Hufflepuff… that's where the loyal friends all end up… they say. But really that's where they stick everyone who doesn't belong anywhere else."

"James!" his father chastised.

"I'll bet I end up there."

"Better than Slytherin. That's for the bad 'uns. And Ravenclaw is where all the smart kids go."

Emily pondered this for a moment. "How do you…" she turned her attention to Dumbledore. "How do you get sorted?"

"That's a secret. You'll find out when you get there." As they arrived at the Gringotts steps, he looked around. "All right, that ought to do it." He glanced down at Emily. "You've your list then?"

She fished in her pocket, drawing out the thick parchment. "Right here, sir."

"Good. You can change your money here, for we use a different kind… and all the stores are clearly marked. You shouldn't have a problem."

Matt nodded. "Okay then. Thank you."

Dumbledore nodded, and turned, vanishing on the spot.

Mr. Parker made his way up to the high counter, offered his Pounds and Pence in exchange for Golden Galleons, Silver Sickles and Bronze Knuts.

Thomas began explaining it to him. "Okay, There's seventeen sickles to a galleon, and twenty nine knuts to a sickle. Its simple enough, once you have the hang of it."

Still nodding his head, completing the mental math, he turned to his daughter. "So, Em, what did you want to get first?"

The girl pondered this for a moment, then spoke softly. "I'd like to get a wand."

"Good choice!" James responded enthusiastically. "We'll see you after we visit our vaults, I suppose?" He looked at Emily, who nodded, clearly pleased to have gained their approval. "You'll be wanting Ollivander's!" He called out, as the Parkers, once again a group of three, set off down the cobblestone street.

Easily the most battered looking shop on the street, Emily paused outside the dirty window under the sign reading: _Ollivander's, Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC._ On a lone purple pillow in the display rested a single wand. A bell chimed as they entered the store.

The man that greeted them was very old. The lines on his face a distinct roadmap of the places he'd be, of the things he'd seen. He looked at Emily for a very long time before speaking.

"You'll be off to Hogwarts then?"

She nodded, almost afraid to speak.

"And which is your wand arm?"

"Erm… well I'm left handed…"

Mr. Ollivander took out his tape measure, and began to run it down the length of her arm, and of her entire body. "Yes, you're the first of your family to attend Hogwarts, no?"

"Er – well I think so. But how did you know that?"

"I remember every wand I've ever sold. And almost every student who attends Hogwarts buys their wands from right here."

Emily looked around the dingy shop, violet eyes wide with the shock of youth. "Seriously?"

His lined mouth turned up at its corners. "Seriously."

"That'll do." He said to the tape measure – which was moving on its own now. And he disappeared between the long isles of boxes.

"This is crazy." Josie whispered. "Stuff like this… it just doesn't happen."

Matt said nothing, simply laced fingers with his wife.

"Here we are." He dumped a handful of long thin boxes on the counter. Some looked new, and some looked quite old. "Try this. Phoenix feather core, and holly. 10 inches long, rather whippy."

"What… what do I do?" she whispered, embarrassed by her lack of knowledge, and secretly pleased James and Peter had gone. At least they didn't have to witness this.

"Just give it a wave. The wand chooses the wizard, Miss Parker. Remember that."

So she did. She waved the wand in the air, feeling rather foolish.

"No. No. Here." He replaced the wand with another. "Cherry and Unicorn Hair. 13 inches, firm. Nice wand for transfiguration work."

But no sooner had she raised her arm in the air then Mr. Ollivander had snatched the wand back. "Dragon Heartstring, and Mahogany. Supple. 7 inches."

A certain warmth she hadn't expected spread through her arm. Instantly, she knew this was the wand she would want, the one that would allow her to harness her magic. She waved it gently, a shower of sparks rained down. Again, Mr. Ollivander graced her with a rare smile. Her mother handed over seven of the strange golden coins they'd just gotten, and he bowed them from his shop.

Back in the light of the street, Emily could clearly see James waving at her from the other end of the alley. Peter looked doubled over. Dragging her parents behind her, she raced back to her new friends.

"What's up with him?" she asked quickly, jerking a thumb in Peter's direction.

"He doesn't like the Gringotts carts much. They go pretty fast."

"Like a roller coaster?"

"Yes, exactly." James finished, just as Peter raced to a nearby rubbish can and was violently ill. "What a baby."

"I feel better now." The other boy said sheepishly, and joined his friends once more.

Together, they set off down the street, into a world of magic, into a world unknown.


	4. Beyond 9 & 34

The eve of September the first came more quickly then any of the Parker's had prepared for. Emily's new trunk was packed to the brim with long black wizard robes, and piles of books she'd spent the past fortnight reading religiously. Her wand was the last thing she packed, the long thin box resting a top all her other possessions. Emily was too excited, as many children would be, to sleep that night. She kept leaping up at odd moments to sneak a peak in her trunk, to simply touch her wand.

And when her mother came in to wake her the next morning, Emily was already dressed, wearing her favourite (and clean) jeans, and a charcoal grey sweater.

"Ready love?"

The young girl nodded, too excited to speak.

"Got your ticket and everything?"

She nodded again. "Yeah, and we're supposed to meet James and Mr. Potter at 10:30 at Kings Cross."

Josie gave the bedroom a sweeping glance, checking to make sure her daughter hadn't left anything important behind. She opened her mouth to speak, but shut it again quickly.

"What Mum?" Emily asked softly.

"I was just thinking … are you sure you don't want to see Edward before you leave? You know…to say goodbye?"

At this, Emily faltered. "He's not talking to me."

"Well, I know you said that, but he's your best mate."

"And we had a row over my going away! It might help if I could tell him where I was going… but then again, I don't think he'd believe me anyway."

"Em, he won't stay mad at you forever. We could stop over on our way to the train… I'm sure he'd want to see you."

"I don't care. When he's done being a jerk, he can write me. Stop pushing this."

Resigned, her mother sighed, brushed a strand of hair out of her daughters face and headed towards the kitchen.

In silence, Emily picked at her breakfast, the row with her mother already pushed far from her mind. Energy bubbled within her, for the first time in her life, excited to get to school, excited to start her new life.

***

The journey to Kings Cross was as quick and silent as breakfast had been. James and his friends had been easy to find, with their oversized trunks and large owl cages, they stood out in the Muggle world like sore thumbs.

"So, what's the big secret? How do we get onto the platform?"

James laughed. "Watch and learn." And with a wink, he took off at a run toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten. And he vanished.

Emily felt her mouth drop open slightly, and caught sight of Thomas Potter, smirking slightly. "How… where did he go?" she demanded to know, placing her hands on her hips.

"Here, give me you hand." Thomas said kindly. "There, and take your mother's, and have her take your dad's, that way we can all get on safely."

In an awkward chain, the four melted through solid brick.

"That was pretty damn cool!" she exclaimed, smiling brightly.

"Language, young lady." Josie reminded her daughter.

"Sorry, Mum." She apologised without really meaning it, and spun to face her new friends.

"Alright, you lot. Let's get a compartment, before they're all gone."

"Sure. Just… just one minute." Emily agreed with a nod, and turned back to her parents, her violet eyes sparkling behind the long fringe of her bangs. "I guess this is it then…"

"Hey, kiddo, don't worry, we'll write to you and everything."

"Really?" she asked, the nerves coming out in her voice.

"As often as you need."

The train whistle sounded loudly, and she threw her arms around both her parents at the same time.

"See you at Christmas, then."

Emily nodded, and swatted a few loose tears away from her face. Without another word, she dashed towards the train, just in time to help James, Peter, and a boy she didn't know lift her trunk onto the high shelf above the seats.

"Thanks." She muttered, and turned towards the window, just in time to wave at her parents as the train picked up speed and they grew smaller and smaller in the increasing distance.

"Parker, are you crying?"

She sniffled and wiped her nose. "No!"

"You're such a girl."

Emily jetted her tongue out, and flopped into her seat, folding her arms over her chest.

Having settled comfortably into their seats, James broke the silence by pointing at the unknown boy.

"Sirius, this is Emily and Peter. And, guys, this is Sirius Black."

Emily smiled at Sirius, something about his face, the hallowed cheeks, and dark eyes made him seem easy to talk to. "So, how long have you been friends?"

"About three minutes. I helped them put your trunk on the shelf, and saved them from falling on their fat arses…"

James looked positively mutinous, like he might punch his new friend square in the jaw. But before he could do anything rash, the sound of voices in the hallway grabbed their attention.

"You'd better be in Slytherin…" A stout greasy haired boy spoke earnestly to an attractive red-haired girl.

"Slytherin? Who wants to be in Slytherin?" James said, smirking slightly, "I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"My whole family has been in Slytherin," Sirius said, looking back at James

"Blimey," said James, "and I thought you seemed alright,"

Sirius broke into a grin for some reason. "Maybe I'll break the tradition," he smirked, "Where're you headed if you've got the choice?"

"'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!' Like my dad," he grinned at Sirius, who chuckled heartily. The greasy haired boy snorted, and both James and Sirius snapped their attention to him.

"Got a problem with that?" asked James, frowning.

"No," the boy didn't even bother to hide his obvious sneer, "If you'd rather be brawny than brainy – "

"Where're you hoping to go," Sirius cut across, "Saying as you're neither?"

James snorted, and then burst into laughter.

"Come on, Severus," she said "Let's find another compartment" whispered the red-head soothingly.

James and Sirius glanced at each other, identical smirks on their faces.

"Oooooooo," the adopted high pitched, mocking voices, and as the boy named Severus passed, James stuck his foot out to trip him.

"See ya, Snivellus," Sirius called, just as the compartment door slammed shut. James burst into laughter once again.

"So your whole family has really been in Slytherin…" Emily whispered, slightly in awe, and a little afraid after all she'd heard about them.

"Yeah." Sirius agreed, his good mood vanishing on the spot. "But, like I said, hopefully, I'll be the one to break the mould. And what about you girly? Picked a favourite house yet?"

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but James cut her off.

"If there's a house for wimpy girls, that's where she's going to end up."

"Hey!" Emily cried, completely outraged. "Exactly what've I done today in order to earn the label wimp?"

"Didn't you need the boys to help put your trunk on the rack?" James asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No way. Not flying. You did that all on your own." She retorted with a smirk.

"She's got a point, mate" Sirius added.

Colour flushed in James's face, and he immediately took up a surly expression, that was only broken hours later, when Peter announced that it was getting dark, they must be arriving at the school soon, and had better change into their robes.

***

The air was brisk, and the night had set in when the train came to a halt. A booming voice called out amidst all the chatter of students and friends excited to see each other once again.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over this way!"

Emily glanced around, looking for the source of the call, and stopped dead in her tracks when she found it. Before her eyes was the biggest man – _er__ was he a man?_ She pondered _His face was more like that of a boy's_ – that she'd ever seen.

"That's Hagrid." James said, predictably knowledgeably. "He's gamekeeper. Don't worry, Parker, he's not going to bite." And with another laugh, and an elbow into her ribs, he clamoured into a boat behind Sirius.

"No mor' tha' four to a boat now! And don' worry about your thing's they'll be taken up to the castle separately."

With everyone settled into boats, they sailed effortlessly across the lake. Their first view of the Hogwarts castle was predictably met with a series of gasps and excited cheers. And once the boats had docked, the children disembarked in the same unorganised manner they had loaded in. The giant called Hagrid seemed to want to give direction of some form, but appeared not to know where to begin.

"He must be new at this…" Emily observed, and James nodded in agreement.

"My dad said Professor McGonagall usually brings the first years up…"

The group made their way into the castle, and gathered in the antechamber, where they did in fact, meet Professor McGonagall. She stood at the bottom of an impressive marble staircase, an old patched hat in one hand, and a scroll in the other.

"Form a line please, two by two."

No one dared disobey, her voice oozed authority. When it was done, McGonagall opened her mouth once more.

"Now, wait here a moment, shortly you will be sorted into your houses. While at Hogwarts, your house will be like your family. You will take meals with them, and likewise attend classes together. Any merits will earn you house points, while any rule breaking will lose them."

A few people nodded. Vaguely, Emily wished she hadn't eaten any candy on the train, as it was threatening to come right back up again. In complete silence, they followed McGonagall into the Great Hall.

Emily was stunned by its vastness. Four long tables filled the space, and before fifth, on a raised platform, where she assumed the teachers sat, was a tiny wooden stood. She chanced a glance towards James, and felt slightly relieved to see, that even he, looked impressed by the size of the place.

McGonagall placed the hat onto the stool, and stared at it, as did all the other students. Emily wondered exactly what they were waiting for when a rip near the brim of the hat opened wide like a mouth, and began to sing:

_The house that I will sort you to  
Will show your heart's true colours.  
But my aim is not to sever you  
Or divide you from the others._

United Hogwarts stands,  
And divided we will fall.  
Animosity between us spells  
Disaster for us all.

If you're Gryffindor you're daring,  
Courageous and brave at heart.  
While if you're Ravenclaw you're clever,  
Intelligent, witty and smart.

In Slytherin you're cunning,  
Ambitious shrewd and sly.  
And in Hufflepuff you're fair and true,  
Work hard and always try.

Now put me on, and don't be scared  
It doesn't take that long.  
I'll take a peek inside your head  
And see where you belong!

Tulmutous applause broke out among both the students and teachers. When it died down, Professor McGonagall began to call out the names of the first years.

"Black, Sirius!"

Beside her, she heard Sirius swallow hard, and march slowly towards the front of the room, silently cursing his last name. He hated going first.

"Gryffindor!"

As each student before her was sorted, Emily grew more and more nervous. Until finally, she heard her name called out.

"Parker, Emily!"

Knees shaking slightly, she made her way to the front of the room and placed the hat upon her head.

"Well. Aren't you a tricky one? Plenty of courage… and an excellent mind at that. So where to put you…"

Emily squeezed her eyes shut, and silently prayed it would be over shortly.

"Ravenclaw!" the hat finally cried, and she exhaled, letting out the long breath she'd be holding.

She joined the clapping third table, and caught sight of James, still in line and Sirius already in his place at the Gryffindor table, both of whom looked slightly crestfallen at the potential loss of their new friend.

"Pettigrew, Peter!"

The hat took a long time to decide where to place Peter, but in the end, decided on Gryffindor.

"Potter, James!"

On the other hand, James was placed instantly into Gryffindor. Emily scowled, and secretly hoped that being in separate houses didn't mean she would lose her new friends. So distracted she was by this latest thought, that she hadn't even realised that sorting ceremony had ended, and food had filled their plates. Hardly hungry, she picked at her food sparingly, and didn't even attempt desert. Her gaze was blank when Professor Dippet gave his start-of-term notices.

Exhaustion from her sleepless night had finally set in.

Emily followed quietly as prefects showed the new students the way into the common room, and listened as they also explained that in order to gain entrance; one had to answer a question.

Soon, she found herself in the spacious common room, with its deep blue carpets, and inviting armchairs.

"Girls rooms up the stair and to the right, boys, same, but to the left."

In a trance, she did as was instructed, and soon fell, face down onto her four poster bed, fast asleep without even taking the time to change her clothing.


End file.
